Many moons ago I worked for a big box computer seller; the red one that for a while had exclusive rights to sell Apple Computers - though this isn't about Apple. This is about the time that closing took much longer than usual, and custys were *not* to blame.

I worked the "upgrades" counter at this store; which is where RAM, video cards, hard drives, CPUs, etc were stored. Basically things that were physically small but very valuable. We had a specific closet that we stored all these items in, and every night at close whoever closed the counter (often me) had to go into said closet and take a full inventory of what we had in there. Count every single stick of RAM (thankfully all in retail packaging), every video card, etc. The closet was the size of a very small bathroom.

One night I went in to said closet, starting 10 minutes to close as usual, and began inventory. I was done around 20 after 9. I came out and saw that the store lights were dim. I thought that seemed ... odd. I made an overhead page in case people were in the break room waitingfor me. No answer. Eventually I realized that the manager (and the other last employees that day) had closed and left without me.

I realized the alarm was on, as well. I knew where the cameras were, and looked at one. Then I intentionally walked to where the alarm would see me, keeping myself in front of the camera the whole time. The alarm started to wail. I think it even announced something like "you have set off the alarm", though it was years ago and I'm not sure any more.

Eventually the local police showed up. I happened to be sitting near the front door, and I could see them through the glass. I was still in my uniform, which seemed to cause the cop to be a lot less worried. A few minutes later my manager returned and saw me through the glass as well. He then proceeded to open the door from the outside and come in with the cop next to him.

Being as I was still on the clock, I needed to clock out once he came in. With the cop next to him, I offered to empty my pockets. The manager who came back for me knew me well enough to know I wouldn't steal from the store, but the cop had never met me before. Manager declined and told me to go clock out.

When I got back to the front door, ready to go home, he asked me why I didn't just leave through the fire door. I don't remember what I told him but the honest answer was I knew there was another manager who did not like me, and I wanted to make sure if he really wanted to he could review the security tapes and see that I didn't do anything the least bit interesting while I was alone in the locked store. The manager who locked me in did give me a bonus on my next paycheck for my inconvenience.

I was still an undergrad at college the last time I worked retail (ie,many years ago). When I was working that job, eventually I met someone who offered me an undergrad research position at the university where I was a student. As you might expect, I enthusiastically accepted that position as it was much more in line with my long-term aspirations than was working retail.

Eventually my last retail shift came along. It was a 2-close shift, much like many that I had worked before. My favorite manager was closing that night as well. We had quite a bit of closing duties to do after we chased out the last custies at 9pm that night.

However I found a moment after 9 to run into our shipping & receiving area, where amongst other things our shrink wrapping materials were kept. Nobody was working that department after 7pm that night. I quickly took off my work shirt (I had a regular, non-descript shirt on underneath), folded it nicely, and shrink-wrapped it. Then I snuck the wrapped shirt to my manager's desk when nobody was watching, and went back to my closing duties (at the store where I worked it was not unusual for employees to take off their work shirts for "street clothes" after 9 so they could more comfortably handle closing duties which often included moving pallets full of computers around).

Our manager then called us over to his desk before closing up that night. He had a few standard words for us (including sales numbers for the day), and then he noticed the wrapped shirt on his desk. He asked who did that, and then saw me fighting to hold back a smile. He unwrapped the shirt, threw it back to me, and told me I could keep it.

Hey there RHU! Queer Geek back again with another delightful holiday story.

Now many of you may not realize this but good ol’ Queer Geek here not only solves custy problems at his job but moonlights as a free therapist as well. Just call me Dr. Pill because I’d rather swallow a bottle of Prozac than deal with any more crazy custys this Christmas!

What do I mean by that? Well let me explain.

Being a Big Fancy office slave, I help my store with menial tasks from answering idiotic custy questions like can I return used underwear to can I get an 80% discount on a defective item to researching lost custy shipments.

On this particular day, I got a call from a custy who I shall refer to as Drama Queen because she literally kept me on the phone for an entire hour trying to solve her problem.

“Thanks for calling the Big Fancy, this is Queer Geek.”

“Hello, my name is Drama Queen and I’m very upset," she told me, "Your employee did not ship me out my make-up order, my free gifts with purchase, and my free samples.”

Now let me mention here that I have sympathy for anyone who works in the cosmetics industry. Beauty Slave, if you’re reading this. I feel your pain. Ever since the make-up companies decided to do gifts with purchases and offering free samples to consumers if they bought some of their make-up products, custys have been trained to have a sense of an entitlement where they can get anything free from cosmetic samples to makeovers. Basically they are wasting the make-up person’s time and money by not really buying anything and asking for a handout. Drama Queen was no different but more on that in my story.

“I’m sorry about that,” I tell her. “Let me fix the problem. What is it you ordered and I’ll see about getting you your gifts with purchase and samples and ship them out to you ASAP.”

“I ordered the Such and Such make-up but I was specific about my samples and gifts with purchase,” she informs me. “I wanted the blah blah sample with the blah blah gift with purchase that does the blah blah blah. I don’t want the blah blah sample because I didn’t ask for the blah blah blah when I particularly ask for the blah blah blah…"

At this point my eyes roll to the back of my head from her demands. “Miss Drama Queen, we can replace the order you originally had and ship it out but some of those free requests and gifts you may no longer available so I can substitute it with something comparable.”

Appalled at how unreasonable she is being, I try to rationalize with her with trying to resolve her issue but she is not having it so I tell her on the phone that I’ll see what I can do but then the conversation turns bizarre.

“I’m sorry but I’m just really depressed,” she starts off. “I just lost both my parents passed away this month and my dog is sick and I’m struggling financially. Did I mention my parents had passed away and my dog is sick?”

Okay I can understand her displaced anger toward me but then she starts bawling on the phone and that is when the therapist gene in me kicks in and she has to tell me her whole life story.

“I have to work two jobs just to make ends meat,” she cries. “It is so difficult with the economy being the way it is. You know people are struggling right now. You know everyone needs a job so I can to work two jobs to support my family. That is why I’m going to apply part time at another retail store so I can pay for school and have Christmas dinner for my family. Then my parents passed away this month and now my dog sick. Did I mention that my parents passed away and my dog is sick?”

This conversation turns into an entire hour of her repeating herself and I’m trying desperately to end the call but like a leech she keeps sucking me back in to which I politely inform her.

“Okay Miss Drama Queen, I work on your issue and get this taken care off.”

“But I didn’t tell you about my son who is going play at his high school concert. He is a really good musician…”

*CLICK*

Epilogue: I finally ship her replacement package and samples (which I had to hunt tothe ends of Earth to find for her) and leave her a message hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with her.

“Good,” Drama Queen responds. “Did I tell you my parents passed away this month and my dog is sick right before Christmas too? Oh and that I’m struggling with money like everyone in the economy? Oh and my foot is starting to ache. I think it's gout? Do you think it is gout? It could be cancerous..."

Working at the store 7 to 23 o'clock was so much fun I had to share a few of the things that happened while I worked there.

I worked the grave shift and I still remember some of the weird ones. There was the girl who came in to buy beer and presented a driver's license that gave her age as 19. In California, you had to be 21 to buy alcohol. The following conversation ensued:

Underage Buyer: Why can't I buy beer? I'm from Nevada. We can buy beer in Nevada when we're 18!

Me: You're not in Nevada, you're in California and you can't buy beer here until you're 21.

Wintertime. Young women come in dressed in short shorts and halter tops. I always kept the door open because I got so warm running around unpacking groceries, mopping the floor, etc. One of the girls is leaving and asks me, "Aren't you cold?" I look at her and what she's wearing and say, "No, I wear clothes."

I've got the store spic and span for the morning rush. Coffee is fresh, creamers are out, counter is clean. Guy comes in and pours his coffee into a cup and proceeds to put sugar and cream into it. By the time he's done, the counter is covered with sugar packets, empty creamers, napkins, coffee, and stirrers, even though we have garbage cans to the left and right. His wife wouldn't put up with that crap and neither do I. I charge him 99¢ for a 79¢ cup of coffee and smiling sweetly at him, tell him to have a nice day.

You want to be a slob at my store? Go right ahead. Sometimes we'd make $5 in extra slob fees before the morning rush was over.

Multi-million dollar lotto night. We have customers lined up around the store and out the door. The machine starts smoking. I decide to open it up, whereupon a huge cloud of smoke arises from the innards and the smell of burnt rubber assaults everyone's senses. Obviously the lotto machine is down for the night.

I tell everyone I can't sell any more tickets because the machine is burning up. Most people groan and start to leave. But one man has to ask me while I'm standing there in front of a smoking machine, "Can't you print out just one more ticket for me?" I ask him, "What part of 'the machine is on fire' do you not understand? NO!"

Our cash registers sat sort of in the middle of the store with the freezer behind us. One day across the street, some kids decide to videotape a guy who is juggling balls. The guy sees the kids and demands their camera. The kids hightail it across the street with the guy in hot pursuit and run into our store. Around and around our little island they all run with the kids screaming and the guy right behind them and yelling. My coworker, who is a stickler for things being in absolute order, is totally unhinged by this. He's standing with his hands clenched into fists and at the top of his lungs, he's shouting, "NO! GET OUT OF MY STORE! GET OUT OF MY STORE!"

I would have helped resolve the situation, but I was laughing too hard to do anything.

Guy came in one night when I was on grave and hands me a temporary check with no pre-printed name or address on it. He starts telling me a sob story about how he just moved here and he has no money for gas or food, so can I please cash his check. Yeah, no.

I'm off at 7am the next morning and my manager is a little late coming in, so I stay for an extra half hour. A lady comes in and lo and behold, she hands me the same check I saw last night and gives me a sob story about just moving and she needs to get gas to get to work and the banks aren't open and can I please cash the check for her. I tell her I told the guy last night I couldn't cash that check and I still can't cash it now.

Later on, one of the swing crew calls in sick and I say I'll work her shift. So 5pm, in comes the guy from the night before, same check in his hand. Walks in the door, looks at me and says, "Don't you ever go home?", and then turns around and walks back out the door.

Night shift. I can't sell alcohol to anyone I think is intoxicated, especially if they're driving. So I tell the two dudes in front of the counter that I won't be selling them their beer. Of course they argue about it. I tell them as clearly as I can that they should leave and probably not drive home. They argue. Finally they get the picture when one of them turns around and sees the two cops who have been standing behind them the entire time. Cops tell them not to drive. Guys say, "Sure, we won't drive!" and walk away down the street, leaving their car in our parking lot.

Five minutes later after the cops have left, the guys are back and getting into their car and pulling out of the parking lot. Of course, one cop has waited patiently across the street for this very thing to happen and pulls them over. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," he says.

Two kids walk in and get beer. They come up to the counter and throw down some laminated card. "Military ID," one says to me. Well, no. It's a laminated Red Cross card. I took the beer down behind the counter and told them not to let the door hit them in the butt on the way out. Like I don't know what a military ID looks like. Sheesh!

About midnight one night, a BMW comes into our lot, more or less parks, and out steps this woman. She couldn't stand straight

even holding onto the car door. I sigh and pick up the phone and start dialing the cops, a number I know by heart by this time. My customer is standing at the counter telling me to just "Give her a break. She's just trying to get home. Why do you have to call the cops on her?"

By this time, the woman has fallen back into her car and she slams the door and tries to take off. Now the same customer in front of me is having hysterics. "She's not gonna stop! She's gonna hit my car! Call the cops! Call the cops!"

The cops eventually stop her and it turns out she's almost 3 times over the legal limit and she has a $10,000 DUI warrant out on her. She refused to do the sobriety test, so ended up at the jail and had to be carried in because she refused to walk.

3am. I had a guy come in and just stand there and look at me. I ask him if I can help him and all he does is start licking his hands without saying anything. Fine, I already know how this is gonna go. So he turns around and walks out and with the hair standing up on the back of my neck, I'm on the phone to the police like white on rice. As I'm putting the phone down, the guy comes in again with his friend this time. The friend is acting super hyper, running around the store, and the first guy is still standing there without a word and licking his hands again. Neither one is actually buying anything and they refuse to leave.

Then come the police. Unbeknownst to me, they had all been helping the cops in another area with a hostage situation and had gotten the call on their way back, just a block away. The two guys in my store had apparently been pestering the other town merchants all day and my call was the straw that broke the camel's back.

One police car after another came zinging into the lot, until I swear there were at least 7 of them there. The guys in my store turned white. BUSTED!

Guy comes in one morning and starts immediately complaining. "All I did was just look at the money!" We have an inside ATM at our store and the guard was filling it. When this guy came in, he leaned over to look at the money and the guard raised his gun at him. The customer was aggrieved. "All I did was just look at the money!"

The cops used to sit across the street and keep an eye on the store. I was flattered until one of them told me that when it comes to convenience stores, when they get a 911 call, they never know if the victim is going to be the clerk or the customer. I said ha ha ha.

Anyway, they were across the street when a car comes careening into the parking lot, backs up into the space in front of the door, and idles there while a guy jumps out and runs in. Cop was there in one second flat. Customer is having a hissy fit. I tell him, "What do you expect? You back in in getaway position, leave your car idling, and run into the store. No cop worth his salt is gonna ignore that!" Customers, I swear!

After 2am when the beer run ends, things are sort of quiet. I've already checked the aisle in front of the beer cooler for money people may have pulled out of their pockets and dropped while trying to decide how much beer they can buy. Instead of money this night, I get four younger men who come in and while one is asking me something at the counter, two of them grab a bunch of sandwiches and run out the door. Of course I go out the door after them, but stop and think about what I'm doing. Decided it wasn't that smart of an idea to run after them, so I pull the door keys out of my pocket and lock the other two in the store. Then I step to the phone booth we have right next to the door and call the cops.

Cops caught the thieves right away. They were still sitting in their car up the street, waiting for their two friends to show up. Their friends, of course, were still locked in the store. One of the cops told me they were just going to give the guy who stole the sandwiches a warning but he was such a smart mouth, they decided to take him to jail.

And last but not least, my favorite story, although it didn't happen to me. One of the clerks at another of our stores caught a little kid shoplifting. He saw the kid was wearing brand new Nikes. He tells the kid to either give him the Nikes or call the cops on himself. The kid calls the cops on himself.

Right now I'm the night manager at Taco Bell/Long John Silver's. Situated in the nook of a rather ridiculous 3-way intersection, I am blessed with pretty low volume work.

I spent most of Black Friday night thanking the retail/customer service gods for making drive thru completely utterly dead. There's a Walmart less than quarter mile away and the streets are packed... And I have one customer. My heart goes out to all the retail slaves getting spat on for their ten dollar tv coupons! The worst I had (before the paragraph to follow) was an entitled woman who thought she would like to prepay her tacos, shop, then come eat them. I told her she better hope I remember her......

Sooooo its 20 minutes to closing time, I've had maybe 5 orders in the last hour.... and I knew I wouldn't get away with no problems today... 10 mins to close this guy wants 50 of EACH hot sauce with his 2 bean burritos.

I said "No our policy is one per two items ordered but I'll give you this (giant handful of packets, prolly 20)".

He goes "C'mon baby you can do better than that."

I just growl and walk away to get his burritos.

I ask one of my two crew members to hand them to him because I'm going to yell at him when he asks for even more sauce.

She returns a moment later saying '"You gotta come talk to these guys..."

So as I return I'm psyching myself up for an argument. Just as I reach for the window latch, the guy gets out of his truck and punches the window, twice, hard!

I recoil and suddenly realize no way am I opening the window now!

I scream, "Did you just punch my window?! I'm calling the police!"

He levels a finger at me with a death stare.

I grin and stick my finger on the window like I'm E.T. and start giggling.

His face squeezes up with rage and he takes off....

I think I freaked my crew out... One girl was all "I never seen you get mad like that..."

And I thought about it and regained my composure and said to her, "If that's the worst thing that happened to us on Black Friday I'm pretty damn good with that."